


Morningbird

by NightwingDiva



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Dick Grayson imagine, F/M, Fluff and Angst, batfam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-14
Updated: 2016-08-27
Packaged: 2018-08-08 18:31:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7768636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NightwingDiva/pseuds/NightwingDiva
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dick Grayson imagine</p><p>A peaceful night of patrol goes terribly wrong as you are suddenly placed in danger.</p><p>I've also upped the rating just in case chapters 3 and 4 are too much.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first attempt at writing anything in the DC universe, and it's not my area of expertise. I normally write Fire Emblem. I just happen to be Dick Grayson trash. I apologize if anyone seems out of character. I tried.

Rain floods the sidewalk and street as you hurry to the passenger side of the black sedan waiting on the curb. The wind destroyed your umbrella earlier that day, so you had no protection from the rain except for the hood of your sweatshirt.  
You land in the passenger seat with a huff and toss your backpack in the back seat.

“Somebody’s a hot mess,” the driver says with a smirk.

“Shut up, Dick.”

“That’s my name. Don’t wear it out,” he smiles as he pulls away from the sidewalk. You roll your eyes and lean back, relieved that the weekend had officially started. Dick raises an eyebrow. “Wow, no snarky comeback. Must have been a rough day.”

“I hate school. I hate life. I would really like to just stop existing for the next couple of weeks. Please.” You say as you close your eyes and try not to think about all the studying you need to do this weekend. “I’ll be happy when finals are over.”

“Hey,” his tone is soft now, and he places his right hand over yours. You turn your head and meet his gaze. His piercing blue eyes always seem to calm you just a little bit. You smile slightly at his messy hair with his button up shirt. Of course Dick Grayson would wear a nice shirt without bothering to brush his hair. Or maybe he knows that you like his hair messy so you can run your fingers through it. He lightly squeezes your hand. “How about when we get back to the manor, you take a hot shower and put on some dry clothes while I fix you a cup of coffee? That should help you want to exist for at least an hour.”

You scoff at the last statement. You made jokes about hating life all the time. He knew as well as you did that they were empty statements. But he always knew how to make you feel better. “Only if we can sit on the couch together and watch Netflix while I drink that coffee.”

He pretends to think about the proposal for a few seconds. “I think we can manage that.”

“Good,” you say with a sly smile and a nod.

He chuckles and focuses his attention back to the road. “No motorcycle today?” you ask, knowing fully well that he would never make you ride the bike in the rain.

“Alfred wouldn’t let me,” he jokes.

“Well, remind me to thank Alfred for that.”

The rain is really coming down now, causing every driver on the road to slow down at the most minor inconveniences.  
You lean your head back and take in the sound of water hitting metal. Normally you don’t trust anyone else’s driving but your own. But Dick won your trust in that area after you learned of his nighttime endeavors.

You started dating your first year of college, and after you both decided you were in this for the long haul, Dick convinced you to move in with him and his family in Wayne Manor. You were hesitant at first; you have a family history of long term relationships not ending well, and you wanted to avoid as much pain and trouble in your own life as possible.  
But when Dick pointed out that it would be foolish to pay for a dorm or apartment when you spend the majority of your time there anyway, you couldn’t refuse. Plus, he’d said, you’ll get to see my smiling face every morning.

As the sound of pouring rain continues, your eyelids grow heavy. You don’t even realize you had fallen half asleep until you feel the car turn into the drive. You sit up straight and stretch with a groan, feeling rejuvenated from your little nap.

“There’s my Sleeping Beauty,” Dick says as he slows the car to a stop.

“Dick,” you punch him lightly in the arm, a bit of a warning in your voice but a smile on your face.

“Ow,” he feigned pain and rubbed his arm. “You know, sometimes I don’t know if you’re trying to insult me or if you’re actually saying my name.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Do you really have to ask?”

“I’m serious! I can’t tell.”

You give him a side glance. “And you never will, dear.”

You reach for your backpack, but he grabs it before you get to it.

“I can get that, you know,” you say as you get out of the car. “I may not be a fighter, but I’m not completely helpless.”

He kisses you on the cheek as you walk in the house. It’s still a little early for everyone to be home yet. Bruce and Jason are still at work, and Tim and Damian are at school. “I know. But I’m nice. And nice people carry other people’s things without being asked.”

“I’ll remember that the next time I try to carry groceries in,” you walk up to him and poke him in the chest.

“It would be easier if you would just make more than one trip,” he laughs.

“I refuse to make multiple trips when everything can be gotten in one!” you stand on your toes in an attempt to get nose to nose with him.

Dick closes the distance between you and steals a kiss before pulling away. “Go take a shower. You’re wet and cold.”

“Yes, master,” you give an overly dramatic curtsy with a smirk and steal your backpack from his hand. You fling it over your shoulder and head through the living room toward the stairs. You deposit your bag next to the couch in the hopes that you can convince yourself to study later.

When you make it to your room you peel off your soaking wet hoodie, t-shirt, and jeans, almost dying in the process when your foot got caught in the pants leg.  
How could your clothes be this wet when you were outside for maybe two minutes?  
You gratefully welcomed the rush of warm water as you stepped in the shower, standing under the steady stream in an attempt to wash the stress away. It didn’t work, but at least you tried.

You opt for comfort when you pick your dry clothes, choosing a pair of yoga pants and a slightly oversized t-shirt. You throw your damp hair in a quick bun and head back downstairs. You immediately realize that the rest of the boys are home as Damian flies past you on your way into the living room where Dick is sitting on the sofa with great amusement as Jason and Tim bicker.

“I’m telling you, the Tomb of the Lost Queen is way harder than the Ghost of Thornton Hall!” Jason says.

“That’s just because you have the mental capacity of a spoon,” Tim shoots back.

“Well, at least I don’t have to look up a walkthrough every time I play.”

“What on earth are they arguing about?” you ask Dick as you sit next to him, legs folded up beside you. He hands you a mug of coffee and wraps his arm around your shoulders, and you lean into him.

“Nancy Drew games.”

“Really? Why?” you ask before taking a sip of coffee.

“I may or may not have mentioned that they were making a new one. And somehow we ended up here,” he twisted the loose hairs on your neck around his fingers.

You roll your eyes with a sigh and pass your coffee to Dick for him to put it on the end table. You reach for your backpack and pull out two textbooks and some notebooks. Dick puts his hand on top of your books.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“I have to study, Dick. I have five finals next week. Three of them are on Monday—hey!” he takes your books away and tucks them under his other arm.

“No, we had a deal. Shower, then couch, coffee, and Netflix.”

You move to steal a textbook back from him. “Richard Grayson, give me my textbook! Or at least my Thermo notes. That one’s at eight o’clock Monday morning.”

“Y/N, you have been studying almost nonstop for the past two weeks. Do you know how many times I have carried you to bed because you fell asleep while studying? You’ll do fine,” he kisses your nose and moves his hand down to your waist. “Trust me.”

“You would be a lot more convincing if you were my professor,” you smile then kiss him back, on the mouth this time. “But thanks anyway.”

“Could you two get a room?” Jason’s voice pulls you back to your surroundings. You grab a pillow and chuck it at him. He catches it easily, even if it was a bad throw.

“Technically we had plans to cuddle and watch TV before you even got home,” you say. Jason throws the pillow back at you. You catch it and hold it to your stomach.

“How about you two go play Nancy Drew or something?” Dick suggests. The other boys glare at him. “Or not. Fine then. You can stay in here while we watch… What were we going to watch?”

“Voltron.”

“Voltron,” Dick looks at you with a raised eyebrow. “Wait? Voltron? Haven’t you seen it twice now?”

“Don’t judge me,” you say as you start loading up Netflix. “People rewatch stuff all the time.”

“Yeah, but it’s usually movies. Not TV series,” Tim says. You give him a hard stare. You may not be able to keep up with these guys on the physical front, but they didn’t dare to cross you. Especially when you gave them the death glare.

“Let me enjoy some quality time with my boyfriend before all of you go out and prowl the city for troublemakers. You never know when someone could get hurt. Or worse,” you say and everyone in the room falls silent. Dick’s grip on your waist tightens a little. They knew your feelings on the vigilante work. Somebody had to take care of what the police couldn’t, and they were doing a great job of helping people. But damned if you didn’t worry about their safety. Bruce was the only one who kept the gang from taking stupid risks. And that wasn’t saying much.

“Technically, I’ve already dealt with the ‘or worse’ part,” Jason says in a hushed voice that reminds you of a small child being reprimanded.

“And do you really want to deal with it again?” Jason didn’t say anything, which was an answer in itself. “I didn’t think so. Now. Are you going to join us, or not?”


	2. Chapter 2

The four of you are still watching Netflix when Bruce gets home. His hair is slightly disheveled, and he loosens his suit tie as he sits in an armchair.

“Wow. Everyone’s watching something peacefully? What happened?” he asks.

“Y/N threatened us. If we didn’t listen she was going to kill us,” Tim says.

“I did no such thing. But if looks could kill, you might have been dead,” you shoot at him.

“Bad day?” Bruce asks you. He’s been a strong father figure these past three years. The man seems to draw in just about every broken person he meets.

“Everything is just so overwhelming. I’m a failure. I won’t pass this semester, and then I’ll lose all my scholarships. Then I won’t be able to pay for school, so I’ll have to drop out. Then because I won’t have a job I’ll be a bum on the streets. And then because I live on the streets I’ll be susceptible to criminal activity. And that’s the short version of how this time next week, you’ll find me dead in the sewers,” you say in a tone that’s lighthearted enough to be taken as a joke. Everyone laughs at how ridiculous the scenario is, including you, but part of you finds this to be a real concern. Maybe not very likely, but it’s still a fear.

Dick must be able hear the difference in your laugh. He rubs your back slowly in an attempt to calm you down, and you snuggle closer to his chest, hoping to hide from the world for a few more minutes.

“I’m sure you’ll do fine. You’re a brilliant young woman, and are absolutely wonderful to this family. We won’t let you fall,” Bruce says. You want to tell him that that’s a lie. That you can’t compete with the sheer amount of intelligence the boys possess. But you’re really too exhausted to argue at this point, so you settle for a smile and a thank you.

“Tim, you want to take my finals for me? I’m sure you’d be great at it. You probably wouldn’t even have to study,” you ask as a joke.

“I think I’ll pass.”

“Jason?” you try.

“Nope.”

You let out an exasperated sigh and look at Dick. Before you can even ask he shakes his head. “Babe, you’re notes and textbooks look like they’re written in gibberish. I can’t do it.”

“I can’t help it that every person who ever works in science ever decides to use the same fifteen Greek letters,” you pout.

“But you picked engineering,” Dick says.

You cross your arms and frown. “I’m not sure why at this point.”

“Because you’re good at it,” Bruce says. “Besides, if you weren’t in engineering we wouldn’t have anybody to improve our weapons.”

“We could find somebody,” Jayson says. You and Dick give him a look.

“Speaking of which,” Bruce ignores Jason’s statement. “Can you figure out why my batarangs aren’t working well?”

“Well for starters, it would probably help if they weren’t shaped like, well, a bat. I know you’ve got an aesthetic to keep up, but, geeze, have you looked at a physics book lately?” you say. Dick snorts and Bruce leans back in his chair with a smile on his face. They successfully managed to pull you away from your self-loathing mood.

“I’ll look at it. But I make zero promises to quality improvement,” you announce. “If it still bothers you I blame it on operator error.”

Bruce checks his watch. “Well, it’s almost six now. We’re going to get ready for patrol at eight. I want us on the streets by nine.”

“That means we have time for at least three more episodes,” you say.

Dick looks down at you. “One.”

“Three,” you insist.

“One,” he says and his hands jerk into action and tickle your sides causing you to yelp and nearly fall off the couch. You pull back from his side quickly and hit his arm.

“Don’t be a dick, Dick!” you yell with a smile. Everyone laughs as he throws his hands up showing his surrender. You scoot back over and wrap your arm around his shoulder and run your fingers through his hair.

“One,” he says and presses his lips to yours.

You bump foreheads and roll your eyes. “Fine. One.”

___

You sit in front of the dozen computer monitors in the Batcave monitoring the police scanners and a map of Gotham. Each of the boys wears a communicator that allows you to track their location with respect to any suspicious activity in the city. While they are more than capable of taking care of Gotham themselves, Bruce recruited you to run the tracking system and police scanners so that they can be as productive as possible. But you never would have thought you would be pulled into working with Gotham’s guardians. Then Dick happened.

“Nightwing to Morningbird,” Dick’s voice plays in your ear, calling your personal codename.

“Come in Nightwing,” you respond, zooming in on his location and the surrounding area.

“The East Side looks peaceful. The biggest threat to the citizens right now is how many cars are double parked along this street. It’s still raining, though.”

“Well, keep an eye out for anything suspicious. I’ll let you know if I see anything on my end,” you say and pan out so you can see everyone’s location on the monitor. “Anyone else have a report?”

“I’ve got nothing,” Jason says.

“Everything’s pretty calm with me, too,” Tim chimes in.

“No,” Damian quips.

“It looks like tonight won’t be that exciting,” Bruce’s voice comes in. “We’ll make one more round then come back in.”

“Roger that,” you respond. You pause for a minute before sharing your thoughts. “Hey, Nightwing, we should get ice cream.”

“Morningbird, are you asking me out? At eleven thirty? Isn’t it a little late?” comes his amused response.

“I wasn’t really suggesting we go out. It was more of a request to bring some in,” you say. “Also, it’s never too late for ice cream.”

“That would be a sight to see. Nightwing in an ice cream parlor,” Jason says, and his amusement is obvious. “I bet the workers would freak out.”

“Imagine if you all went,” you say. “Everyone in uniform. Just walking into the creamery, ordering two scoops of chocolate chip to go. Sorry, Red Hood, but I think yours would melt before you got to eat yours. You know. Big hood thing and all.”

“Which is another reason why ice cream will have to wait,” Bruce says. “I see blue lights in the distance. Morningbird, are you getting anything?”

You scan the screens in front of you, hoping you haven’t just completely screwed up your one job and doomed the city because of a conversation about ice cream. However, nothing shows up on the computer. “Batman, I don’t have anything at all showing up on my end. Wait,” you say as the screen begins showing several red dots spread out across the city. “I’ve got a single report of an armed robbery close to your location, Batman. I’ve got reports coming in for the northwestern corner, the south side, and the center of town. They keep multiplying by the second.”

“Why are you just getting this now?” Tim asks.

“I don’t know,” you say. The whole thing is confusing. Reports normally don’t show up all at once, and definitely not spread out like this. “The system seemed to be working just fine earlier. I don’t understand this sudden spike in activity.”

“Batman,” Dick’s voice radios in, his voice low and serious. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

“Me, too, Nightwing,” Bruce responds. “But we need to check it out. Robin and I will deal with this armed robbery. Red Hood, you take the northwestern corner. Red Robin, go to the south end of Gotham. Nightwing, you check up on the center.”

Knots form in your stomach as you try to figure out a pattern to the report system. It doesn’t make any sense. On a normal night the crime levels remain fairly low but consistent throughout the evening. Never have you seen things switch from being absolutely peaceful to chaos across the city like this. It doesn’t feel right.

You’re still working on the computer to see if the software glitched somehow when Bruce comes in on the radio.

“The blue lights I saw weren’t on a patrol car, and there is no evidence of an armed robbery taking place in this area.”

“Yeah, there’s nothing up here, either,” Jason says.

“This is getting really weird because there’s nothing in South Gotham. Nightwing, you get anything?” Tim asks.

The line stays quiet for a few seconds before Dick answers. “Morningbird, is everything alright in the cave?” You look around. Everything looks normal. Everything is where it should be.

“Nothing seems out of the ordinary. Except for this stupid computer,” you smack the monitor a few time to release frustration. Suddenly the monitors start blinking. Programs pop up that you aren’t even close to opening. “Well that’s creepy.”

“What?” Dick says, worry etched in his voice.

“Well somebody’s driving the computer. But it’s not me.”

“We’ve been hacked,” Tim says.

“How?” Jason asks.

“I don’t know. But you’ll have to manually reset the computer and remove any malicious content on the computer, Morningbird.”

“I can try, but this kind of thing really doesn’t agree with me,” you warn before trying to steal the mouse away from whoever is controlling it. Sirens sound in your ears, and everything in front of you is filled with flashes of red.

“Um, guys,” you say. “I think whoever is messing with this has decided to put the Batcave on lockdown.”

“What?” Bruce asks.

“Can you force an administrator override?” Tim asks.

You keep punching keys and clicking things but the computer doesn’t respond to you. “I can’t get it to work.”

“But you’re an engineer,” Jason pipes up, all the while sirens blare in your ears.

“I’m a freaking mechanical engineer not a computer one! This is not my specialty!” you snap.

“Morningbird, you need to get out of there. Now,” Nightwing says. You jump up from the desk without hesitation and start running for the elevator.

“It looks like tonight’s real target was the Batcave. Everything else was a distraction,” Bruce concludes. “We’re coming in immediately. Until then, get out.”

Too late, you realize. All of the exits have been sealed shut. You bang on the new metal barrier knowing it won’t do any good. “So, new plan,” you say trying to hold back your panic. “I think we need to initiate Mission ‘Get Y/N the Hell Out of the Batcave’ immediately.”

Dick swears to himself, and you can almost hear their worry through the headset. All at once, every source of light disappears, and you find yourself surrounded in darkness. You can’t keep the panic from reaching your voice now. “And now the lights are out. Nightwing, I’d really appreciate it if you were here right now.”

“I’m coming as fast as I can, Morningbird.”

A solitary computer monitor lights up displaying the image what looks like some kind of beast with two large curving horns. A high pitch frequency from the computer hits, causing you to flinch and cover your ears out of instinct.

“What was that?” Bruce questions.

“Morningbird, what is going on? Tell me you’re safe,” Dick says.

“I’m not sure that ‘safe’ is a word I would apply to this situation,” a new female voice speaks over the headset. You look around the cave for a source of the voice. The emergency lights slowly lift, revealing two shadows against a wall.

“Mother,” Damian hisses.

“Shit,” Jason mutters.

“Talia,” Bruce says. “If you do anything to hurt her—”

“I’ll kill you,” Dick says. This is the most serious you have ever heard him. “She’s done nothing to you or the League.”

“Ah, but Bruce has taken her under his wing,” she says. You scream as you feel something fly by your face and impact the metal barrier behind you.

“Ra’s al Ghul has a message for you, Bruce,” the woman says as she creeps from the shadows. She looks at you with a paralyzing stare. “‘Say goodnight to your Morningbird.’”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I don't think this warrants an M rating, but there is action/violence/blood in this chapter.

“Y/N? Y/N! Dammit!” Dick yells when your line cuts off. He revs up his motorcycle, driving faster that he thinks he ever has before. The city lights are a blur as he speeds back to Wayne Manor and the Batcave. “I should have known from the moment the computer started acting up. I should have left then.”

“It wouldn’t have made a difference, and you know it,” Bruce says. “If the League wants something, they will find a way to get it. They’ve probably had this whole scenario planned for months.”

“But she doesn’t even know how to defend herself, Bruce!” Dick says. He’s quiet for a moment; his eyes start to burn and water blurs his vision. When he speaks again, his voice is barely above a whisper. “I should have taught her how to fight.”

“Hey, man, don’t beat yourself up,” Jason comes through. “The girl’s smart. She’s probably trying to buy as much time as she can. She won’t go down without a fight.”

“That’s not the point!” Dick snaps before lowering his voice. “I can’t lose her. It’ll be my fault if she…” he falters on the last word, unable to say the word out loud.

“Dude, she knew the risks involved in helping us when she joined the team. It’s not your fault,” Tim says.

“But if she’d never met me, if we had never started dating none of this would have happened!”

“But you would never be as happy as you are with her,” Bruce counters. “We all see how she brightens your life.”

Dick doesn’t say anything for a while, focusing on the road ahead of him. Too slow. Everything feels too slow. He’s wasting too much time. He needs to be there now. “Where’s Alfred?” he finally says.

“He says he got trapped in the Manor when the Batcave went into lockdown. He thought it was some sort of accident, but when he checked the security cameras… he concluded that it was not an accident,” Bruce says. “He’s working on disarming the system as we speak.”

“What did he see? Is she alright?” Dick asks.

“… He didn’t tell us anything but that it is imperative that we hurry.”

Everyone is on the road leading into the Batcave now. In his rear view mirrors Dick sees the rest of the gang; Bruce and Damian are in the Batmobile, and Jason and Tim are on their bikes. They are all flying down the road, but Dick is far in the lead.

“Dick, Alfred just managed to get the system in order. You are all clear to enter the cave.”

Dick acknowledges Bruce with a grunt and one last spurt of speed before passing through the hidden door to the Batcave.

___

The last thing you hear before the communicator cuts out is audible chaos from the boys. There was a mixture of swearing and yelling, but the most obvious voice to you was Dick yelling out your name. Then silence.

“Dick? Dick?!” you try in vain to contact him. You look at your uninvited guests. “Well, this can’t be good.”

“Let’s make this quick. They’ll be here soon,” Talia says.

“What do you want with me?” you ask Talia, trying to hide the quiver in your voice. You’ve not dealt with Talia or the League of Assassins personally, but you have heard plenty about what they are and how they operate. You scan the room for anything that could help you—whether it’s to fight or escape, you aren’t sure.

“Ra’s al Ghul still wants the Batman. However,” Talia smirks. “Bruce is not easily manipulated. He needs some encouragement, and, like I said, you have been taken under his wing.”

“How is that a message to Bruce?” Maybe you can keep Talia talking long enough for the boys to get back to the cave. It seems like they’re your only chance.

“That wasn’t the message. The real message will be your dead, broken body when they return. Then Bruce will accept the League’s offer.”

“But why me?” you ask. It doesn’t make any sense to you. If Talia wanted to get to Bruce personally, wouldn’t it make more sense to target somebody who is closer to him? Someone who has stood by his side for more than the past three years?

“Oh, it’s nothing personal against you. You just so happen to be his newest ward. The shiny new toy,” you swear you see an evil glint in her eye. “And what better way to break the great Batman than to break the heart of one of his beloved ‘sons?’ And not just any of them. The oldest one. The one who has stood by Bruce’s side the longest. Killing you will all but kill Nightwing, and, in turn, Batman. It’s a domino effect, really.”

You can’t think of a response to that. Your heart is beating in your neck and a steady roar fills your ears. You start inching toward the uniform display cases as Talia approaches you, a second person shadowing her. The other Assassin is wearing full League gear, so you can’t tell anything about their identity.

“Besides,” Talia continues. Your pace quickens until you feel cold glass against the palms of your hands. You move one hand along the glass until it reached the weapon shelf beside the display. Your fingers close around a cold metal, and you realize this is Jason’s case, and you have one of his spare guns. “You’ll be optimum practice for my newest apprentice,” Talia looks at her companion. “Kill her.”

You pull the gun in front of you using both hands to steady it for aiming. “I’m not sure how to use this thing, and that makes me at least twice as dangerous as normal,” you say. The assassin lunges at you and you fire the handgun several times, hoping one shot will find a target. That tactic appears to fail as the assassin reaches you unscathed.

You fight back, using the gun to hit the assassin with instead of your bare hand. You manage to hit him a couple of times, once on the temple and once on the cheek before the assassin grabs the hand holding the gun and bends it back, forcing your back to hit the glass case behind you hard enough to shatter it. You hear a snap from your wrist before you feel the pain shoot up your arm, and you involuntarily drop the weapon with a scream of pain. You feel a sharp pressure directly under your rib cage where the assassin just jabbed you, and suddenly you can’t breathe. He flings you across the room, forcing you into another display case.

Broken glass is scattered everywhere, and your eyes try to focus on your surroundings; you spot a couple of batarangs among the glass and grab them with your good hand. A dark figure grows larger and larger as the assassin approaches. You scramble into a sitting position, whimpering when you put pressure on your broken wrist. It still feels like someone has ripped your lungs out, but you put all your strength into throwing a batarang at your attacker.

You feel like you could cry when it misses, and you doubt it has anything to do with the signature bat shape. How does everyone else make it look so easy?

The assassin grabs your hair and jerks you up until you are on your feet—except your toes are barely skimming the floor. You cry out as he holds you up only by your hair. He isn’t restraining your arms, so you decide to take this opportunity to try and jab his throat with your elbow. It doesn’t seem to do anything but annoy him. So you take the other batarang and try slicing at him. Though you manage to cut him in a couple of places, his suit protects him from most of the damage. He kicks you back into the broken display case, and your shoulder feels like it’s on fire as you realize that a large shard of glass has just impaled you.

“Dick,” you mutter to yourself. It’s the only thing you can think of. You don’t want to die. You don’t want to lose Dick. You think of all the nights you spent together dancing in the kitchen while baking cookies, and how Jason freaks out when you two get too lovey in front of him. You don’t want that to end.

You pull yourself up and grab one of Damian’s swords. You’re not that steady on your feet, but you manage to balance and hold the sword in an offensive position.

“My, but aren’t you a fighter?” Talia says. “It’s a pity you won’t be able to polish up your potential.”

“I fight for my new family. I fight for my love. I won’t be one of your pawns! I will survive!” you announce with newly found determination.

You hobble toward your opponent and try to swing your sword. You manage to cut his arm a couple of times. You think maybe you really will survive this, that you’ll do enough or buy enough time for Dick to show up, but he grabs the hilt of the sword, turns it back around on you, and pushes in. You both stand still for a moment, shock settling in, before he steps back and pulls the sword with him. You fall off the blade onto the ground as you feel the blood start pouring out of the wound. The assassin picks you up and throws you across the room. Talia bends over your defeated form.

“Survive this,” she says, and something pinches your neck, gradually sending liquid flames through your body.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has been reading so far! Feel free to let me know what you think about it so far!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still more angst to come. Brace yourselves

When Dick lands his bike in the cave, he is appalled by the sight before him. Broken glass and weapons litter the floor in front of the display cases, and his hands tremble at the amount of blood streaking the floor and dirtying the glass.

But the most sickening sight is you lying on the floor, with Alfred over you trying to administer first aid. Your hair is splayed around your head, and blood soaks your clothes. Dick has to close his eyes for a moment as his stomach flips; there is so much blood. Too much blood.

He runs over to your side. Your eyes are open and darting around, but they seem unfocused. Your breathing is shallow and heavily labored, and your skin is pale. Alfred is applying pressure to your stomach which Dick assumes is your most serious wound.

“We need to get her to the medical table, and quickly. Time is our enemy right now,” Alfred says in a voice much calmer than Dick could muster at the moment. Dick scoops you up in response, and almost cries at your limp and virtually lifeless form.

He rushes you to the examining table while trying not to make your injuries worse. He lays you down just as the Batmobile and motorcycles come in. You start turning your head as if looking for something that your eyes can’t see.

“Dick?” your voice is extremely weak and tinted with pain.

Dick quickly places his hand on your cheek, turning your head to look at him. “Hey,” he says. “It’s okay. I’m here now.”

“God, this looks bad,” Jason says when he reaches the table. Alfred pulls the hem of your shirt up to continue working on your stab wound, revealing how deep it actually is.

Tim flinches at the deep gash. “Geeze, did she get freaking impaled?”

“It would appear so,” Alfred says. “Unless you’ve another word for a blade completely piercing someone’s body.”

Dick’s heart drops. “How bad was it?”

“You can’t tell by looking?” Alfred says. His tone softens when he sees how shaken up Dick is. “She took a very rough beating; a broken wrist at minimum, possibly some ribs, too. A large piece of glass impaled her shoulder, and… the assassin used her sword against her before tossing her across the room.”

“She didn’t stand a chance did she?” Dick says.

“She made a valiant effort. When the time for talking ran out, she tried using the weapons closest to her,” he pauses for a moment. “The poor girl really doesn’t have the best aim.”

Dick brushes the stray hairs away from your damp brow. Your hand reaches up to touch his.

“Dick, I—” you start before winching.

“Shhh, don’t push yourself,” tears well up in his eyes.

You shake your head. “No, Dick, I love—”

Suddenly your body starts convulsing. Your eyes roll back in your head, and your back arches before crashing back on the table. Dick tries to hold you down on the table.

“What’s happening now?” Dick asks with no attempt to mask his fear. Jason grabs your feet and tries to hold them steady.

“It’s the League’s poison,” Bruce says as he rushes to help Dick hold you down. “Damian. Run. Get the antidote. Tim, prepare a syringe.”

Dick says your name softly, fighting back the fear that he might lose you.

Tim and Damian run as soon as Bruce tells them what to do, and while they are only gone for half a minute, it feels like half a day for Dick. Tim injects you with the antidote just as you cease moving.

For a moment everything is still, aside from Alfred, who has finished stitching up one wound and moving to the next.

“Why isn’t it working?” Jason asks. Dick lowers his ear to your chest and presses his fingers to your neck for a pulse, and it feels like his blood has turned to ice.

“No,” Dick says, “Bruce, her heart’s not beating.”

“Get the adrenaline,” he says as he begins chest compressions. Damian runs and grabs the adrenaline while Tim finds the only syringe large enough for a jump start.

Bruce rips the top of your tshirt to clear a place for the needle and takes the adrenaline from Tim. Dick sees the syringe come down, but he turns his head at the last second to avoid seeing the impact. Bruce continues chest compressions, but you don’t move anymore. He checks your pulse again.

“I’m sorry, Dick,” Bruce says with his head hung.

“No,” Dick says. He grabs your hand and holds it to his cheek. “No. She can be…”

“We’ve done everything we can,” Bruce continues.

“No,” Dick’s tears are freely falling now. “No. You can’t leave me,” he closes his eyes and leans into your hand. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t here. Don’t leave me alone.”

His hands tremble as he reaches up to stroke your face. His tears make a soft pinging sound as they land on the metal table under you. “Please don’t leave,” he places his forehead to yours. “You were the one.”

Everyone in the room is silent. Not a single eye is dry.

For the first time in the past twelve years, Dick feels completely helpless. In that moment, holding onto you as if his life depends on it, he is a ten year old boy watching his parents fall from a trapeze. The guilt of everything he could have done differently to prevent the death of those he loves most washes over him. Time stands still. He is helpless.

His heart feels like it’s being ripped out of his chest. His voice is weak and suffocated by tears. “I love you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So fun fact. I actually thought this was ready for the NEXT chapter, which is my favorite, and I felt like my heart was ripped out when I realized that it was THIS chapter... I"m sorry. This is why I can't have nice things. But if I were really cruel I'd end it right here.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told you guys I wouldn't end it there. But if I were a cruel and twisted individual I would have. 
> 
> But I'm not. So I didn't.
> 
> This is seriously my favorite chapter in the whole thing.

Dick sits with his head in his hands staring at the pattern on the rug at his feet. Everyone is assembled in the Manor’s study to evaluate what they should do next; Alfred has lit the fireplace and brings tea to the vigilantes, saying that it will soothe the soul. The room is silent aside from the crackling fire and the soft clanking of porcelain against porcelain, as the events that occurred an hour ago are still sinking in. Alfred places a cup of tea on the table in front of Dick, and the aroma is a warm comfort he really doesn’t want right now.

“How could this happen?” Dick mutters to himself more than anyone else. While he feels like he could cry for an eternity, the tears no longer fall, and he is left with a deep feeling of emptiness.

“I think we’re all wondering the same thing,” Bruce stares at the burning logs. He closes his eyes and shakes his head. “We need to figure out how they got in to begin with.”

“The League is very meticulous. It’s likely they’ve had this planned for months,” Damian says.

“If that’s the case, then it’s entirely possible that our computer and security systems have been infected for that long as well,” Tim picks up his tea, his hands visibly trembling. He takes a sip before carefully placing it back on the table.

“But why kill her? Wouldn’t it make more sense for them to kidnap her? Torture her, and use her as bait?” Jason leans back in his chair and stares at the ceiling.

Everyone sits thinking, trying to derive Ra’s motive. Dick’s mind keeps wandering back to you, trying to memorize everything about you before he gets the chance to forget. Your soaking wet frame when he picked you up from class today. Your playful punches when he teased you. The twinkle in your eye when you were feeling especially snarky. The sound of your voice when you laughed. The soft warmth you radiated when he held you close. The smell of your hair when you snuggled into his chest. The taste of your lips every time he kissed you.

You had joked about not wanting to exist, but never in a million years did Dick ever imagine he would actually have to exist without you. If only he could hear your voice one last time, or kiss you again. What he wouldn’t give to tell you how much he loved you. If only he could bring you back, even for a few moments.

Dick’s head snaps up, drawing the attention of his adoptive family. “The Pit,” he says. “What about the Lazarus Pit?”

“What?” Tim asks.

Bruce’s eyebrows knit together as he nods his head. “Ra’s is trying to draw us to Nanda Parbat. He wants us to strike a deal, and the price is using the Lazarus Pit to revive her.”

“That actually makes sense,” Tim says nodding his head with a facial expression similar to Bruce’s.

“Bruce, it’s our only option,” Dick says, hope in his voice.

“No,” Jason leans forward and scoots to the end of his chair. “No, Bruce, you can’t.”

“Why not?” Dick shoots at Jason.

“Some things should be left alone.”

“Jason, you were dead, and the Pit brought you back,” Dick says.

Jason looks at Dick with an incredulous expression. “And look at what it did to me!”

“I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but Jason’s right,” Tim says. “The Pit changes people, Dick.”

“Grandfather has bathed in the Pit for more than 600 years,” Damian pipes up.

“I rest my case,” Tim says and throws his hands in the air. Damian sticks his tongue out at the older boy.

“We have to try,” Dick insists.

“No,” Jason says. His clenched fist trembles from frustration.

“Why are you so against this?” Dick asks. “You, of all people should—”

“You want to know why I’m against this?” Jason all but yells. “I’ve been there, Dick. I’ve been in her place. I came back from the dead. I’ve been there, done that, and even have the tshirt as a souvenir. And you know what? It was absolute hell. I am not the same person I was before I died. There are no words to describe how broken and damaged I am. I wouldn’t wish that pain on anybody. And I’m telling you right now, that the woman who comes out of that Pit will not be the same one you fell in love with.”

“We won’t know unless we try!”

“Do you really think she’d want us to play into the League’s plans? Be their pawn?” Tim asks.

“Tim, I can’t just leave her—”

“No,” Bruce looks Dick in the eye from across the coffee table. “She’s gone, Dick. You should leave this alone.”

“How can you say that?” Dick asks, frustration apparent in his voice. “After everything we’ve been through together, you know what she meant to me!”

“Dick,” Bruce speaks like a father. “I know how much pain you’ve been through. I knew from the minute I brought you into this house. I saw myself in you. From the first day you met her, I saw you change. You were happy. Genuinely happy. Every day you saw her you’d come home radiating joy. And I thought maybe you would be able to escape the solitude. So don’t think for a second that I don’t want her back as much as you do. Because I want you to be happy, Dick.”

Dick turns his gaze back to the rug at his feet. Bruce continues speaking, “But Jason’s right. The Lazarus Pit messes with the mind and the soul. Dick,” as Bruce says his name Dick raises his head with slumped shoulders. “I want your last memories of her to be happy ones. I want you to remember her as she truly was. Not what the Pit will make her.”

Dick presses the heels of his hands to his eyes as if pushing back the tears. “I just… I just want her back.”

“I know, Dick,” Bruce says. “We all do.”

Everyone is silent, the only noise coming from the ticking of the clock and the crackling of the fire.

The bookshelf hiding the elevator to the cave slides open. Everyone jumps up and immediately assume an offensive stance surrounding the entrance. The first thought in Dick’s mind is that everything they just discussed was wrong. The League are coming back to finish what they started.

So it takes everyone by surprise when you stumble out of the elevator and Dick finds you in his arms, alive but breathing heavily. You clutch to his shoulders and lean into him for support. Dick thinks he’s dreaming because he watched you die. You can’t be alive. He checked for a pulse but didn’t feel a thing. His mind is blank. His only response is to hold onto you as if his life depends on it. If it is a dream, he wants it to last as long as possible.

“Shit,” Jason only sounds mildly surprised. “You’re not dead.”

In that moment Dick realizes that he actually isn’t dreaming. You really are here, alive, in his arms.

___

Pain.

That’s all you can comprehend. Everything hurts. Your entire body feels like it’s going to break. Your chest is sore. Your limbs feel both ice cold and fiery hot at the same time. Dull pain radiates from your wrist and shoulder, but the worst is from your stomach. Waves pulse out and crash over your entire body.

Gently you crack your eyes open. Even though the light around you is extremely dim, it causes you to flinch and squeeze your eyes shut again. You roll your head to the side and try opening your eyes even more slowly than before, allowing them to adjust to the light before proceeding.

Your memory of the evening’s events are very faint. You think you recall being on the losing end of a fight. The last thing you recall is Dick’s face. His brow was creased in a way you’ve only ever seen when he’s extremely worried, and his bright blue eyes were glassy with tears.

You try to sit up and immediately regret the decision as a sharp pain runs from your head to your stomach. You cry out before lying back down. You realize that you are on the metal examination table in the cave. Based on that and the constant complaining from your body, you deduce that you didn’t dream the fight after all.

You look around the cave, but oddly enough, nobody else is with you. Normally when someone is injured or unconscious somebody is at their side constantly until they are deemed well enough to move about on their own.

With a deep breath and strong determination, you try to sit up once again. You make it through your body’s rejection to the action and manage to make it to a sitting position, legs hanging from the table and hands clasping the edge. Your head swims as if you’ve stood up too fast, and you look down hoping the dizziness will pass.

Your once gray shirt is ripped and a deep shade of red.

“Damn, I liked this shirt,” you mutter to yourself.

You notice that white bandages are wrapped around your waist and hips and across your chest and shoulder. The metal table is smeared with red, and your eyes follow a trail across the room to the wall of broken uniform displays. Did all that blood come from you?

You look back around and see that the motorcycles and Batmobile are in the cave. Then, that means the memory of Dick was real and not a dream?

Your stomach flips. Based on how much blood is around you, you know they would never leave you alone like this, unless…

“They think I’m dead,” you say. Your heart aches at the memory of Dick’s face. That’s what he was distraught over. He thought you were dying.

You have to find him.

Newfound resolve fights the pain in your body enough to allow you to move. You try to stand up, but your hand slips, and suddenly you are on your hands and knees with a metal examining table and a whole lot of noise.

“Shit!” you scream through tears of pain. Your broken wrist is your dominant one, and you reflexively caught yourself from falling with it.

You grit your teeth. If you don’t get to them now, you may really be dead by the time they come back down here. You cradle your broken wrist to your bandaged torso, and ease back to your feet.

You walk—or hobble—to the elevator. Every step is a test of willpower, and you feel your energy fading fast. By the time you reach it, you are breathing heavily and your body is coated in a light sweat.

Somehow you manage to operate the elevator. You place your hand on the palm scanner as the computer recognizes that you aren’t an intruder. You feel the familiar shift of the rising elevator as it climbs up from the cave and into Wayne Manor. You steady yourself on the railing, not really trusting your legs enough to hold you up in the rising machine.

When the elevator slows to a stop, you straighten up. The elevator door and bookcase concealing the cave’s entrance open, allowing you access to Bruce’s study.

You’ve not even managed to take a single step before you find yourself falling. However, you don’t hit the ground. You look up into a shocked and teary pair of familiar blue eyes.

You’re arms are clinging to Dick’s shoulders, and his hands are instantly at your waist to support you. You lean your head into his chest, breathing heavily. He places one hand on the back of your head, and tears well up in your eyes at the gentle warmth from Dick’s body. In his arms, you finally feel safe.

“Shit,” you open your eyes as Jason speaks. “You’re not dead.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be sure to tell me what you think! There's only one more chapter left!


	6. Chapter 6

“I thought I heard a muffled crash. It must have been Miss Y/N,” Alfred says as he enters the study with a plate of warm cookies.

Bruce spins around to look at the butler. “And did you not think to mention this to us?”

“With all due respect, sir,” Alfred raises his eyebrow. “You were brooding. All of you were brooding. And I know better than to disturb a brooding bat and his birds.”

You can feel Dick staring at you, so you look up at him. “You’re really here?” he asks. “But you were dead.”

“Are you complaining?” you try to joke.

“Of course not!” Dick fumbles for words. “It’s just… I watched you die.”

You soften your gaze and run your fingers through his hair with your good hand. “Dick. I’m here now. Walking and talking.”

“I’m not sure ‘walking’ is the word I’d use,” Tim snorts.

“Stumbling is better,” Jason adds. “Or falling.”

“You know what I mean,” you snap at them.

“Perhaps Miss Y/N would like to go lie down? She still looks terribly pale,” Alfred interrupts. Another wave of exhaustion hits you, and you fall into Dick even more than before. He’s still worried—you can tell by his soft but tight grip. He wouldn’t let you fall even if you wanted to.

Dick all but carries you to the small sofa Tim and Damian were sharing earlier. You ease down to the seat and wince a little when you bend the wrong way. You lean back into the plush sofa. The cushions shift next to you as Dick sits beside you without letting go of your hand.

“Who’s the hot mess now?” you ask with a raised eyebrow, referencing your conversation from the afternoon. Dick’s hair is messier than usual, his eyes are red and puffy, and his clothes are extremely disheveled.

“I’d say you both are,” Jason says.

“I think it’s justified, though,” Tim says.

“I still don’t understand,” Dick stares at you as if you could disappear at any moment. “Y/N, you stopped breathing. Your heart stopped beating and wouldn’t start again.”

You stare in his eyes and slowly shake your head. “Dick, I don’t know what to tell you. I don’t know how I’m still here, either. Based on all the blood in the cave, I shouldn’t be.”

“Perhaps the adrenaline worked after all?” Alfred suggests.

“Maybe,” Bruce agrees with a nod. “We all may have been too shaken up to take an accurate reading on her vitals,” he looks at you. “But you were dead on the table, regardless of how long it took the adrenaline to take effect.”

The fact sinks in. You actually died. Maybe you weren’t dead for long, but you died.

“We should form a club, Y/N,” Jason says with a smirk.

“The ‘I’m too Stubborn to Die when Someone Tries to Kill Me’ club,” you laugh, then wince when you realize that laughing actually hurts. A lot. Dick rubs the back of your hand in an attempt to comfort you. “Wait. So, is dying a legitimate excuse to not have to take my finals?”

Everyone laughs a bit—even Dick cracks a smile despite his obvious concern.

“Well,” Bruce starts with a devious twinkle in his eye, “I think you were kidnapped by rogues tonight while out shopping, and they gave you a good beating. You would have died had the Batman not showed up just in time. The whole ordeal was very traumatic.”

“Does that count as a doctor’s note?” you ask.

“No, but I think I have enough connections at the university that you won’t have to worry about your tests. Or your grades.”

“Oh, thank goodness,” you exhale and lean your head back into the sofa.

“Your focus now should be healing and getting strong enough for training,” Dick says softly.

“Training?” you ask.

“I think we can all agree that you should at least learn self-defense,” Bruce says, and you nod in agreement.

“I hate myself for not doing anything about it before now,” Dick murmurs and avoids your eyes.

“Richard Grayson, you cannot blame yourself for what happened tonight,” you say with your ‘mother’ voice. “I knew what I was getting into the moment I stepped foot in that cave. Danger comes with the territory. Frankly, I’m frustrated with myself for not taking self-defense classes anyway. Although,” you cringe when you think back to your attempt at fighting back, “I may not be handy at any of your choice weapons.”

“What do you mean?” Tim asks.

“Let’s just say, not of the bullets from Jason’s handgun found a target, I cannot aim and throw the batarangs to save my life—in my defense, though, my dominant wrist I think is broken, so I was throwing with my other hand,” Dick raises his eyebrow at the mention of your wrist, and Alfred leaves the room, you assume to find something for your wrist. Jason and Tim snicker a bit at your poor aiming skills. You recall the last weapon you tried to use and place your hand on your injured stomach. “And let’s just say that the sword did not end well for me.”

That wipes the smile off Jason and Tim’s faces. Everyone’s expression turns grim. Before the moment could get too awkward, Alfred returns with medical supplies and begins setting your wrist so that you can avoid accidentally hurting it as often. He gives you some painkillers and a glass of water, which you accept gratefully.

“Perhaps we should all leave Master Dick and Miss Y/N alone for a bit? It is terribly late, and I’m sure they would appreciate some time alone together,” Alfred says.

“But Alfred!” Tim objects.

“It’s not every day somebody dies and comes back!” Jason complains.

“I’m curious as to how she managed to survive those injuries,” Damian states.

“Tomorrow,” Bruce says with a stern voice. The boys start to complain again, pointing out that it’s already tomorrow, but stop immediately when Bruce gives them a look that says ‘Challenge me. I dare you.’ You smile as they all leave with slumped shoulders and disappointed expressions. Once they have all left, Bruce looks at you with such sincerity, you swear he could be your father. “I’m glad you’re safe, Y/N. We all are.”

Before you can respond he and Alfred leave the study, and you turn your face to Dick.

“They were crushed by what happened,” he says, and your heart pulls at your emotions. “And I was devastated.”

“Talia said she would get to Bruce by breaking you, and killing me was the easiest way to do so.”

“It would have worked,” Dick says. “I swear he was ready to march straight into Nanda Parbat and deal with Ra’s himself,” his gaze darkens. “And if he didn’t, I was.”

“Dick, you shouldn’t be so reckless. The last thing I want is for you to get yourself killed over me.”

He leans closer to you, and you can see his eyes are watery again. “But without you I don’t have a reason to keep going.”

You can’t think of a way to respond, and while you stare at him speechless, Dick presses his lips to yours. He pulls away from the kiss and wraps his arms around you, one around your waist and one tangled in your hair. His mouth is right next to your ear when he speaks again. “You’re my sweet morningbird, and I will never let you fall. That’s why,” he pulls away and kneels on the floor in front of you. When he pulls a small black box from his pocket, you clasp your hands over your mouth and your eyes grow misty. “I want to marry you, Y/N. I was going to wait until Christmas, but after everything that’s happened… I don’t think I can hold off.”

You stare into his eyes for a moment, your stomach in knots. “Dick, you know how much this scares me,” comes your faint response, muffled by your hands. “I want this, but I’m afraid. I’m afraid that you’ll wake up one day and wonder why you decided to do this. I’m afraid we’ll fall out of love as quickly as we fell into it,” you start to cry. “I know my life was a cakewalk compared to yours, but I’ve been hurt by failing relationships so much, Dick,” your voice softens. “I don’t want to be hurt anymore.”

“You won’t,” he grabs your hands and looks deeply in your eyes. “Y/N, we have endured two different kinds of pain, but that doesn’t make yours any less real than mine.”

“I just don’t want us to regret this.”

“I know. But I love you more than anything, and I can’t imagine a life without you.”

“Then you know that I love you, too. So much that it hurts,” you look him in the eye and note that he is crying as well. “But, Dick, I’ve not seen a happy or lasting marriage in my life. I don’t want to end up like that.”

“Then we can be the first.”

“It still scares me,” you say, and he presses his forehead to yours.

“I’ve learned several things about life from my time in the circus, as well as Robin and Nightwing,” you stare into his piercing blue eyes. “Just because you’re afraid of falling, doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try to fly.”

“But do you really want to marry a bird with a broken wing?”

“Wings heal with enough love and attention.”

You can’t help it as tears fall freely down your face. Dick eases back in the open seat beside you, being careful not to move you too much as he slides his arm around your waist. You cry into his shoulder, and he strokes your hair until you calm down. You both sit quiet for a minute, listening to the dying fire and ticking clock. You look up at him.

“You’re right. I may be afraid of uncertainty. But I am absolutely sure that I love you. Your family is already my family, and I don’t think there’s anything that could change the way I feel about you.”

Dick’s face lights up. He opens the small box to reveal a simple ring. You smile at the design—that on either side of the large white center stone rest blue ones. A subtle tribute to his alter ego.

“So, will you be Mrs. Richard Grayson?” he asks once more.

“Yes. With all of my heart,” you say and pull his head down for a kiss, running your fingers through his hair.

He pulls away and slides the ring on your finger, and you respond by leaning into him and resting your head on his chest. While your injuries still hurt, the pain is no longer unbearable. “I love you,” you mutter.

He kisses you on top of your head and wraps his arms around you. “I love you, too.”

It isn’t long before you find that your eyelids are drooping. Between the emotional and physical exhaustion, you’ve reached your limit. The painkillers are working full force now, and you drift into a comfortable sleep with your head on Dick’s chest.

Careful not to disturb you, Dick picks you up and carries you across the manor to your bedroom. He gently places you on the bed and pulls the blankets over you. He kisses you on the forehead before lying down beside you, one arm wrapped around your waist.

The sky is turning from black to purple, and Dick stares at your peaceful face before falling asleep himself. “I swear, you won’t have any more dark, sad, or lonely nights. Good night, Morningbird. I can’t wait to spend my life with you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank every one of you who had kept up with and read this story. It was my first shot at writing imagines, and I really enjoyed the style. Any other imagines I write will be posted to my tumblr, kamuithedragonlord.
> 
> I hope the ending was happy and satisfying!


End file.
